


onset of action: rapid

by baozisdragon



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hitmen, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass to Mouth, Implied/Referenced OT7, M/M, Minor Character Death, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Wet & Messy, y’all this is just... this is just filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 10:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baozisdragon/pseuds/baozisdragon
Summary: the big 3 of the responses to adrenaline; fight, flight, and-





	onset of action: rapid

**Author's Note:**

> two things u need to know. 1) wonhyuk is second only to showho in my heart, and 2) before i started writing for mx almost everything i put out was a fight club/mafia/assassin au, so its abt time imo

It’s the adrenaline that does it. Always the adrenaline.  
  
Such a convenient excuse that Hoseok couldn’t help but use it every time. That pesky little chemical flooding their brains, erasing rational thought, taking the reins and yanking left when they wanted to go right. Of course, none of them actually believed that. Everyone was in their right mind anytime this sort of thing happened, it wouldn’t go down if they weren’t. Thugs? They were. Thieves? Even killers? They wouldn’t deny. But when they fucked they were just men, and men did crazy things when they had ‘adrenaline’ coursing through their veins.  
  
Crazy things like allow themselves to be hoisted up onto a windowsill on the fourteenth floor of an abandoned hotel, a smoking rifle set carefully at their feet, a body thrumming with electric energy pressing them back against the glass.  
  
“Did you make the shot?” Hoseok asks. Every inch of his skin simmers with anticipation. Between his legs, Minhyuk works frantically at his belt.  
  
He’s answered through clenched teeth. “Of course I did.”  
  
Just like that they have no more reason to hold back.  
  
Hoseok leaves one hand on the sill for balance while he clenches the other in a fist in Minhyuk’s hair, dragging his face up to meet his. They kiss and it’s fervent, like a soldering iron on steel wherever they touch. Hoseok’s upper lip stings like fire when Minhyuk presses against it, it must’ve been split at the corner courtesy of one of the security guards they’d met before entering the building. He’s always said that he doesn’t care what kinds of marks he gets as long as they aren’t disfiguring, and this one certainly isn’t. Minhyuk doesn’t seem to mind either, with the way he’s tonguing over it again and again, leaving his tongue tasting like iron and salt when it spears past Hoseok’s lips to tangle with his own.  
  
Hoseok is hyper aware of his position, of the creaking of the muddy panes of glass that are the only thing between him and a fourteen story drop to the asphalt below. His fear only adds to the storm of sensation inside him, fanning the flame of urgency and desperation until his fingers buzz like live wires. When he lets go of Minhyuk’s hair and shoves his hands away to undo his belt himself, a sardonic laugh filters from Minhyuk’s mouth into his.  
  
“So fucking needy.”  
  
Hoseok’s ears burn as Minhyuk’s hands occupy themselves with his shirt, tearing open the buttons so that they scatter all over the floor, popping and rolling like pistol fire.  
  
“You have to pick those up, dumbass,” Hoseok hisses. Minhyuk ignores him in favor of recapturing his mouth in time with his fingernails leaving scalding trails down his chest. As Hoseok finally gets his belt undone and open, Minhyuk detaches himself. While Hoseok’s hands are busy, Minhyuk yanks his own shirt over his head and steps out of his slacks, kicking his dress shoes off and against the wall. He sees that Hoseok’s fly is down and, without giving him a chance to hop down off the ledge, grabs his belt loops in hard fists and yanks his tight jeans down his legs.  
  
Hoseok flails with a roar. The hinges holding the window shut squeal. For a heart-stopping moment all of his weight is resting on his shoulders against the window, and they heave with panicked breaths.  
  
A snarl twists his face as he opens his mouth. Minhyuk is quick, however, and stops his furious shout with a huge palm. His lips are curled in a sly grin when he leans in close enough that the tips of their noses brush, and his mouth is nearly pressed against the back of his own hand.  
  
“Shh,” He chastises. “Don’t give away our position.”  
  
Hoseok’s eyebrows, still drawn down and arched, raise up in disbelief. Before Minhyuk can open his infuriating mouth again, Hoseok beats him to it. He catches the meat of Minhyuk’s palm between his teeth, tasting sweat and gun oil, and bites down.  
  
Minhyuk yelps like a dog as Hoseok releases him. He hadn’t broken skin, but Minhyuk cradles it to his chest like he’d broken bones.  
  
“Shh,” Hoseok smiles, as a dribble of his own blood falls down his chin.  
  
The noise Minhyuk makes is half-frustration, half-arousal. He looks like he wants to strike Hoseok and for one hair-raising moment, Hoseok thinks he’s going to. For one frantic second, Hoseok wants it.  
  
But it passes quickly. Minhyuk shakes his hand out with a caustic smile.  
  
“I love it when you get feisty.”  
  
Hoseok grunts out a laugh. “Keep fucking with me and you’ll see how feisty I can get.”  
  
Minhyuk’s pout looks ridiculous with the shallow cut that pulses crimson over his cheekbone, and the yellow-purple bruise that surrounds it. “You’re never this mean with the others,” he somehow manages to whine.  
  
“That’s because you drive me crazy,” Hoseok bites. He grabs Minhyuk’s face with both hands this time, yanking him closer none too gently. Minhyuk’s eyes are black and glittering where he meets them. “Like nobody else.”  
  
Minhyuk meets him as they both surge forward, pressing a new flow of blood out of the cut on Hoseok’s lip that he only notices because of how easy it makes the slide of their gasping mouths. He feels Minhyuk’s hand wiping itself of the dust and grit on his shirt, which he appreciates, as in the next moment it’s snaking down between his thighs, past his sharply aching cock, and against his hole.  
  
Minhyuk pulls back with a sharp noise. He looks down at his hand, and seems both surprised and relieved when it’s not blood that he feels coating his fingers. He looks up into Hoseok’s eyes to find them heavy-lidded and wanting.  
  
“I wanted to be ready for you,” he breathes out.  
  
Minhyuk falls to his knees.  
  
Hoseok leans forward to follow him but is instantly pressed back against the glass by one of Minhyuk’s big hands splayed across his abdomen. In the next second it leaves, sure that he’ll stay put, and goes to lift his balls up and out of the way. Just the touch of that slick, calloused palm against him is enough to tear a warbling moan from his bruised throat. It’s only Minhyuk’s knuckles brushing against the underside of his dick, but after nothing but air it feels like absolution.  
  
Hoseok knows he’ll start begging soon. He’s been on edge since they left for the hit, nerves vibrating like piano wire with tension that had nothing to do with the mission they’d taken. He doesn’t even notice he’s started to pant his exhales until a different caress silences him. Minhyuk slips his thumb past his rim in one smooth push, hooks it and tugs until he’s held open and gaping. Hoseok fights the urge to clench around the unsatisfying digit, stays stock still even as he feels a gob of lube slide out and onto Minhyuk’s wrist.  
  
“You’re so fucking wet,” Minhyuk breathes.  
  
Hoseok’s chest is heaving. “For you.”  
  
Minhyuk presses harder into him, and Hoseok widens his thighs just a bit, lifts them and holds them still. The message is received loud and clear.  
  
Minhyuk leans in with an echoing groan to seal his smoldering lips around Hoseok’s asshole, moulding tight around his own thumb. Hoseok immediately raises his wrist to his mouth and bites down. His cries, trapped behind the whipcord tight muscle of his forearm, tear viciously at his throat. All the while Minhyuk’s unholy tongue is sliding in eagerly, with an enthusiasm that resonates all the way to Hoseok’s toes.  
  
Hoseok grabs at his own groin, freeing Minhyuk’s other hand so he can slide both his index and middle finger in past his tongue, pulling Hoseok open until saliva and lube run unchecked between his cheeks and down Minhyuk’s chin, pooling on the window ledge. When Minhyuk finally pulls back, his cheeks glisten in the moonlight coming in over Hoseok’s shoulder. He thrusts his fingers once, twice, and smirks. He spits, catching it against Hoseok’s rim, and watches as it slips inside. Hoseok shivers.  
  
“Minhyuk, we need to hurry.”  
  
Minhyuk glares, looks like he wants to fight him on it, but seems to give in once he catches sight of the expression on Hoseok’s face, whatever it may be.  
  
Even though he’d asked for it, Hoseok can’t help the way his chest caves in when Minhyuk stands and his fingers disappear. The emptiness that’s left in him is crushing. Almost without conscious thought, his hand starts to creep down, down to where he wants it most.  
  
Unfortunately, Minhyuk has always had scarily fast reflexes.  
  
“Don’t even think about it.” He’d grabbed Hoseok’s wrists, and yanked them to his sides, pressing them down against the windowsill until Hoseok grunts. He leaves them there when Minhyuk releases him, scrabbling to grip the sill, feeling the aged wood bend and warp beneath his hands.  
  
Minhyuk watches him with eyes that glitter like lit gunpowder. Hoseok can tell he has something to say. Minhyuk has always been mouthy. Fighting or fucking, he’s never learned when to shut up.  
  
“The whole time we’ve been here, when you killed those guards,” an incredulous huff of laughter, “-when you gave me the go ahead for the shot,” he pauses. His voice is black ocean deep. His hands are totally steady when one of them grasps Hoseok’s thigh, prompting him to raise both up and tilt his pelvis, and the other runs firmly over Hoseok’s leaking hole, gathering wetness. “-you were fucking sopping.” Hoseok can only nod, his lower lip stick between his teeth.  
  
Minhyuk doesn’t even see it, he’s too focused as he slicks his own cock up. “Leaking all over yourself…” Both his hands are on the backs of Hoseok’s thighs, gathering handfuls of plush muscle until Hoseok’s asshole is bared to his ravenous stare. “Waiting until I could finish the job and fill you up.”  
  
He brings his hips forward. He presses the tip of his cock to Hoseok’s hole, and keeps pressing. Hoseok’s body sucks him in one long, fluid swallow.  
  
Hoseok’s breath leaves his lungs. The air is heavy with sweat and gun smoke and sex, as humid as a tropical night. He forgets about the window behind him, the threat of falling, the dead man in the high rise across the street and the three others stuffed into a supply closet on the first floor. His head is full of nothing but Minhyuk, the weight and length and girth of him, dragging through his guts until he feels drunk from it.  
  
His eyes are closed, and so he can’t see the way Minhyuk’s face is a mask of awe as he watches Hoseok’s sloppy rim suck him in again and again, lube and saliva frothing up around the base of his cock and dribbling down his balls. His fingernails bite into Hoseok’s flesh, blood welling as a few break the skin.  
  
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he breathes. He looks up to see Hoseok’s blissed out face, his lips parted and his tongue peeking out as he pants.  
  
When Minhyuk takes his dry hand off of Hoseok’s thigh he keeps his leg raised, foot still pointed as his body rocks against the window pane. When Minhyuk puts his middle two fingers into Hoseok’s mouth, pressing down against the slippery surface of his tongue, all he does is make his jaw go slack, relaxing his throat so that Minhyuk’s fingertips can thrust past his gag reflex. One of his eyes creaks open while he sucks, and a tear leaks out to fall onto the webbing between Minhyuk’s fingers.  
  
His hips jump, and he picks up the pace. Hoseok groans throatily, and Minhyuk presses harder on his tongue, almost getting him to gag. “You just wanna be full,” Minhyuk pants, driving harder forward and pulling his hand from Hoseok’s mouth to hold his legs even higher. “You want it so much you’ll kill for it.”  
  
Hoseok looks too fucked out to reply, so Minhyuk grabs his cock, starts jerking him with fast, short strokes, not even touching the head that’s flushed such a pretty hot pink. Hoseok grunts like he’s been gut punched.  
  
There are bruises on his torso that Minhyuk wants to worsen. Places he wants to bite and make raised and hot to the touch, but they don’t have enough time. They’ve racked up a body count worthy of news coverage in the last hour alone, and every minute brings them closer to discovery.  
  
So Minhyuk starts fucking into Hoseok with intent, driving into him with enough force that the splintering shrieks of cracking glass start to echoe around the empty floor. Hoseok, thankfully, is too out of it to notice. Minhyuk grinds hard, rolling his hips and feeling himself move closer and closer to the edge, Hoseok’s wetness and his warmth and the loose, well-fucked hole that he’s losing himself in holding on like a sprung bear trap.  
  
He feels Hoseok’s orgasm before he sees it, holds his runaway heartbeat in his hand as Hoseok cums in tangled ropes up his quivering torso. His head thunks back against the window with finality. With a shriek, frosted spiderwebs spiral out from behind it in a broken crown. His ass swallows Minhyuk up once, then two more times before he’s brought to his end as well, filling Hoseok up even more. Hoseok whines a little bit as Minhyuk gives a few final, shaky thrusts.  
  
Cum follows immediately when he pulls out moments later, pooling on the sill enough to run over and trail down the wall. Minhyuk is unable to help himself. He takes two fingers and stuffs them back inside, miming as if he’s trying to plug him back up. Hoseok writhes.  
  
“You’re so filthy, hyung.”  
  
Hoseok manages a hoarse laugh, though his face is still contorted as Minhyuk’s fingers stay wriggling around inside him. “Because you like me this way, you little shit.”  
  
Minhyuk leers. “You got me there.”  
  
When Hoseok lowers his thighs Minhyuk is forced out and away as they come down, and Hoseok’s feet are back on the floor once again. When he stands, not only are his legs coltish and wobbly, but they’re tacky with sweat and any number of unmentionable fluids. “Oh my god,” he groans, looking back at the mess he’d made. “Did you bring wipes or anything?”  
  
“You think this is my first time?” Minhyuk asks. He stoops, still bare from the waist down, to dig around in the cello case he’d used to carry the rifle through the subway. After a moment that Hoseok spends scanning out the wrecked window for any sign they’d been spotted, a plastic sachet of wipes slaps his lower stomach.  
  
Minhyuk breaks down the gun while Hoseok cleans himself, making sure to grab the single spent casing before going to stand.  
  
He's stopped by a tattooed foot on his shoulder that kicks out and sends him sprawling. “Uh uh,” Hoseok wags a finger. “Did you forget?”  
  
Minhyuk follows Hoseok’s pointing, sees a dozen pearl-sized shirt buttons scattered haphazardly across the floor. He groans, which Hoseok scoffs at.  
  
“Your actions have consequences, Minhyuk-ah.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Minhyuk grumbles. He yanks his pants up one-handed while the other snakes around like a pale spider across the dusty floor, gathering buttons as he goes. Hoseok does a once-over of their setup, trying his best to tuck his shirt into his jeans so that it’ll stay at least a little bit closed. A smirk graces his features when he hears Minhyuk griping to himself from the ground.  
  
Adrenaline. It’s a pesky little thing.


End file.
